


Darkest Nightmare

by WonderPickle



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Happy's nightmare, MINOR DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, Toby comforting Happy, bit of angst, ends in fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderPickle/pseuds/WonderPickle
Summary: Happy has a rough nightmare, and Toby's there to comfort her when she wakes up.Quintis one-shot.





	Darkest Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> this was written during the time Happy was believed to be pregnant.

Happy struggled in her chair, squirming and grunting against the tenacious rope restraining her hands’ freedom. She witnessed helplessly as her beloved teammates, _her_ _only_ _family_ , were beaten to _bloody_ _pulps_ , in front of her eyes. 

The attackers were definitely foreign, attired in heavy, dark leather from head to toe, with thick guns rested in their grips and thuggish, ugly smirks to match their sinister demeanor. They all chuckled barbarously at the sight before them. 

One of them slugged Cabe with the side of his gun.  _ Hard _ . Right smack across the jaw. She could hear the wicked cracking of his bones from across the room. 

Another thug raised his leg, shoving his hefty foot into Walter’s abdomen. He groaned vociferously, wincing at his most likely broken ribs.

Happy’s breath hitched in her throat as the third and final goon stalked towards Sly, an utterly sadistic and malicious manner about him. 

She shifted her gaze downwards instantly as she heard the sickening cry erupt from her colleague’s lips. 

After hearing the gruesome noise, the mechanic immediately fought more vigorously against the sturdy grip the bulky rope had on her. 

The sound of Ralph’s frail whimpers suddenly buzzed in her eardrums. 

It was like a reiterating cycle. Her friends continuously getting brutally harmed, in any way the gunmen’s minds could conjure up. Paige, Cabe, Walter, Sly, her father, even innocuous Ralph.  _ Ralph _ . 

It was nauseating her to her very core.

Happy did not cease in her attempts to free herself from the restraints placed upon her. She couldn’t cry out in all her frustration, the forlorn and enmity getting lodged in her throat. Every muscle imaginable was sore in every place from all her tugging and pulling. She was still unsuccessful, the irritation building within her by the very second. She thrashed violently, possibly throwing a joint out of its socket. But she didn’t care. Happy refused to accept the fate of watching her family become mercilessly injured  _ over _ and  _ over _ and  _ over _ again. She  _ refused _ . 

There was no words to describe how she was feeling. Her moxie was rapidly declining, the _pure_ _fury_ sapping and _ripping_ it from her. It was her worst nightmares come to life, the very people she loved most bleeding and cracking bones all in front of her very eyes. And she was powerless to stop it. _Powerless_. The only family she had ever known, the only people she had ever cared about, dancing around the brink of death. Her cheeks felt flushed with rage and grief, every angry and sad emotion possible wrestling around for control within her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” one of the thugs called in a thick accent.

Happy dared to look up. She could feel the anguish choking away any words or threats she could respond with. So she didn’t bother trying. 

But she lost  _ all control _ when the thug rammed the barrel of his gun into his chest. The chest of her stupid dummy jerk moron, her doc, her child’s father, her one and only, her  _ everything _ . Her Toby.

She pushed against her restraints, sweat raining down her forehead. Her limbs were set aflame, agony seeping through her skin and proflicating through all her muscles. She wrestled for mastery of her own body. Happy fought as violently as she thought physically able. It still wasn’t enough.

The doc merely gazed at her, his eyes hollow and exhausted. Scarlet blood trickled down the sides of both his cheeks, splattering everywhere below him. 

Her voice finally cleared, and she  _ screamed _ when the shot came. Happy had never uttered a sound so gut-wrenching, so raw and enraged, and so  _ terrified _ , in all her life. 

But the bullet flew quickly, and two hearts ceased pumping in the same instant. 

* * *

Happy erupted out of the bed, her eyes fluttering open and her spine shooting up simultaneously. Her breathing was heavy, inhaling deeply and exhaling even deeper as she tried to regain herself. She closed her eyelids tepidly. 

Not a moment’s hesitation before all of it came gushing back. Everything. The brutality, the torture, and the  _ pure _ ,  _ retched  _ misery. It was stained into her remembrance, burned into her genius brain.  _ Burned _ . 

“It was just a dream,” she muttered to herself repeatedly. But she knew, it was  _ not just a dream _ . It was her worst fears, her greatest nightmares, clashing together in one woebegone vision. The darkness of her mind, her inner demons, they came out to play for one torturous, sleepless night. 

Slowly reopening her eyes, the dark-haired mechanic rotated her head to her right. A breath she didn’t realize she was repressing gradually departed from her lungs. Eyelids obscuring his charming pupils, he was deep within his tranquil slumber. His nose fluttered every few seconds, exposing the soft exhales escaping his nostrils. He was at peace. Which meant so was she.

For the most part.

Biting her inner lip, she threw off the minimal covers shrouding her. Toby always robbed her of most of the blankets throughout the course of the night.

Happy dropped onto the floor, her soft feet padding against the cool ground. With all her years of slipping in and out of foster homes, it required minimal effort for her to soundlessly maneuver throughout the apartment. She didn’t dare turn the lights on, for fear of awakening Toby.

She stepped into the kitchen, a woeful sigh brushing across her plump lips as her feet pressed against the familiar tiling of Toby’s dining area. Happy shuffled towards the cabinets, her recollection assisting her tremendously. The surface of each cabinet was something well-known to her, something she’d experienced dozens of times. She’d visited his apartment on more than enough trips to recall where everything was. That, and her genius intellect would never permit forgetfulness. 

She shoved her hand through the cabinet door, fumbling around for a cup. Nearly knocking over several others, Happy snatched her desired object. Shuffling around, she neared the sink, proceeding to switch on the faucet.

The placid sound of the running water hummed in her ears, somewhat soothing her. 

But her mind was still not cleansed of the callous dream she had earlier experienced. Her friends’ screaming...her father’s shrieking...the vicious gunshot...they all rang in her ears as if they were echoing were directly in front of her. They  _ sickened _ her. And infuriated her. And as much as she was fearful to admit it, they  _ scared _ her. Her dream scared her  _ witless _ . Happy Quinn would  _ never _ admit to being as utterly  _ petrified _ as she was. But then again, she never thought she would ever grow as fond of anyone as she did, let alone an entire  _ group _ of people. She never imagined the fact that she might have anything worth losing.

“Stress isn’t good for the baby, you know,” a voice said, suddenly jolting her out of her reverie. Her mind focused back in on reality. She glanced up. Toby rested his intertwined arms over his Harvard shirt on his chest, somewhat of a smug smirk painted upon his lips. She wasn’t exactly sure why it was there, but there it was anyway, his attractive little grin. “Why are you up?”

Happy merely shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

One foot in front of the other, he padded towards her. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed, both caused by the warm bed he’d just slumbered in. “We both know you're lying. What's wrong, my turtle dove?”

Her eyes flicked downwards, deliberately averting his nurturing gaze. “Nothing. Go back to sleep,” she directed him, her tone clipped.  She felt defensive, her walls immediately slammed down to shelter herself, as if he had done something wrong. But she knew he hadn't...it was just her natural instincts. 

With his mixture of genius behavioral intelligence and collective years spent with Happy, he was confident in his belief that something was  _ definitely _ bothering her. “What's a matter,” he began with a playful demeanor, “you let the bedbugs bite?” He chuckled at his own joke.

Happy’s line of sight settled on him dangerously. She looked in  _ no _ way amused. “Can it, doc.” 

His eyebrows furrowed, his joking attitude suddenly diminishing. “Seriously, Hap,” he told her, placing one of his palms on her muscled bicep, and brushing his other hand against her soft cheek, “What's bothering you?”

The old Happy would’ve pulled away. She would’ve shoved his arms off and stormed in the opposite direction, completely neglecting his concern. 

But instead, she shifted her gaze to create eye contact with him, glimpsing into his obviously sleep deprived pupils. As she continued to flourish as a person, she began to comprehend the importance of sharing her internal thoughts and ever adjusting emotions with people who cared about her. She was learning how to become human. 

“It was just a dream,” she informed her fianc é , “I’m fine.”

Toby quirked the corner of his gorgeously pink lips. “You’re clearly not fine. Would you really have tried so hard to resist my inquisition if you were?”

Happy didn’t reply with words, but the look she reflecting in her eyes told him all he needed to know.

“Whatever happened, Hap,” the psychiatrist told her, “it was just a dream.”

“I know,” she mumbled into a shoulder as he wrapped her in his embrace. His arms encased her shoulders, gripping her securely. He planted a kiss atop her head, the sweet smell of her hair wafting through his nostrils. 

She held onto him like a lifeline, not wanting to relinquish her hold on safety he provided. 

“Can I ask what it was about?” Toby questioned, pulling the pair out of one another’s arms. 

Once again, he somehow merely looked at her, and understood. They had known each other far too long to permit anything to go unnoticed by each other. They could comprehend what the other was thinking simply by a passing of an expression. 

Without another word, Toby soundlessly enclosed her into his arms for the second time.

Seconds raced by, then minutes, and possibly even hours. But for Toby and Happy, all that mattered, was each other. 

 


End file.
